


The New Guy

by LiinHaglund



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oblivious Team, Out of Character, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Telepathy, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiinHaglund/pseuds/LiinHaglund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just an excuse to write some porn. </p><p>Youji gets a new teammate. A cute one, but he comes with a lot of baggage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More Like Someone's Banged Up Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just going to be Youji/Aya, but I literally can't stop dragging Schuldig into everything. He'd probably like all the drama and attention of having two lovers anyway.

I come home, if you could call a Kritiker safe house a home, a little later than planned. I suppose I have to call it home because it's all I have right now. I find Ken and Omi cleaning up a mess in the adjoining flower shop and just wave on my way past. No way am I staying to help, especially not when it looks like a bomb went off in there.

I knew from earlier briefings we were getting a new member, but I had assumed that was going to happen today. Since there is no sign of anyone else on the bottom floor I decide I must have heard wrong. Or... well, that could explain the mess in the shop, I suppose. Kritiker doesn't recruit for well-adjusted or sane. They seem to like the homicidal nut-cases.

I start making tea in the kitchen instead of thinking about it. Most likely I just mixed the days up, we all leave schedules and appointment making to Omi for a reason.

I mean, I could. Really, I can be organized as all Hell, but I don't like Kritiker much and I don't feel like giving my all. Not like Omi is. I just want to get by long enough to figure out a way to get out. The guilt is killing me.

Omi, as if hearing me thinking about him, runs up to me and grabs my arm. He's deceptively strong for such a small and thin teen, but the night shift gives him plenty of workout. He starts babbling a hundred miles a minute and I just stare at him before I try to make him slow down. “He's on your bed,” I finally make out from the speed-speech, along with: “Ken knocked him out.”

“Why not put him in _Ken's bed_?” I ask. It seems like the obvious solution. Ken's fault, Ken's problem.

“We thought you were out the whole night again,” Ken mutters from the doorway. He has no doubt been getting grief from Omi about his short temper. I know for a fact he got one Hell of a lecture from me about how to _not_ welcome new members of the team when I joined. That boy needs a fucking mental evaluation by an objective third party, let me tell you. And some strong pills.

Omi looks miserable and small where he's still clinging to me, which is only part manipulation. The kid really does want everyone to be happy, but he will stop at nothing to get his way. I'm not sure just how bad Kritiker has fucked him up, but I doubt he even knows himself how twisted he is. A part of me worries he'll snap, but another fully buys into the innocent act he puts on most days. “I feel bad for him. You should see how many wounds he has. It's like he was half-dead when he showed up.” He's glaring at Ken.

“Leave it to Daddy,” I smile at him, glad I'm not the one in trouble for once.

Omi rolls his eyes, but seems content to let me do what I want.

I sigh and resign myself to not get any sleep at all tonight if there's some guy in my room. The water is boiling, so I make tea for myself in one of the pink mugs and leave the hot water by the stove in case Omi or Ken wants any. Yes, we have pink mugs. They were there when I moved in and Omi swears they came with the rest of the kitchen inventory. They're big and sturdy, so whatever. If I can be a florist I can use a pink mug, it's not going to be the end of my masculinity. I hope.

Once in my room I first assume Ken and Omi were wrong about the gender. The redhead looks feminine enough with the covers over him, but when I look closer I do notice it's a guy. It would probably be easier in daylight, but in my dim room he's looking more like someone's banged up girlfriend. Androgynous is my cup of tea, thanks for asking.

I sip my tea and sit on the floor by the bed, putting the pink mug on my nightstand.

He's easy to look at. Even looking like this, all black and blue, I can tell how pretty he is. I can also tell he's fast asleep now and not knocked out cold; he's moving restlessly and mumbling. I hear a girl's name and something about his parents.

I roll my stiff shoulders a little. I've had to start working out like a health nut lately. Omi and Ken look to young to get into clubs, so anything requiring an adult is on my table. I've been cursing Kritiker up and down, but I can't leave the team hanging. I'm not a total dick, you know.

My guest suddenly wakes up with a start, which makes me jump a little. I get up on my feet and have my arms around his chest before either of us notice what happened. He tries unsuccessfully to fight me off. He's crying and shaking from whatever nightmare he's been having, but he's unnaturally silent throughout it all. I don't let go. I'm used to comforting both Omi and Ken by now, it's almost like having younger brothers. If you have younger brothers who regularly have panic attacks from the shit we're forced to endure without the help of any professionals.

The redhead in my arms soon stills and goes almost limp. He blinks to try to see better through the tears and that's when I notice the blue-ish color of his eyes. It's hard to tell exactly in the dark. I swipe the pad of my thumb over his right cheek to remove the wetness and then return the arm to wrap around him. The left half of his face if buried in my chest.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It's like holding a girl, he's so thin and delicate, but there's a novelty to it. I'm not opposed to men, but most of them have no appeal to me. Women have curves, which I like, but... androgynous boys like this one is something I would pursue in a heartbeat. I like pretty things, sue me.

Once he's calmed down enough he opens his eyes and tries a little more forcefully to escape my hold. I let him this time.

“Hi. I'm Kudou Youji,” I introduce myself, “or Balinese.”

He nods, but doesn't talk. I'm not sure he can right now.

“What's your name?” I press. There's another silence. I sigh. He did murmur a name before. “You said Aya in your sleep. Do I call you that then?”

His back stiffens, and I stay still, hoping it'll force him to talk. Instead he collapses back into the bed and stares blindly into the ceiling, fresh tears rolling down from his eyes, but no sound comes from him during the few minutes I manage to keep my resolve.

I lay down next to him and hold him. I want to curse Kritiker to Hell, not one of the people I've worked with since joining has been emotionally stable. I'm not that fucking old, but I'm the oldest everywhere I go in this organization, and my sob story is just one of dozens. Whatever reason he's here for, Kritiker won't be good for him. Working in Weiss won't fix him.

I feel the new guy relax after a while and he seems content to stay where he is, snuggled up with me. “It'll be okay. Go back to sleep,” I murmur to soothe him.

He shifts a little, getting cozier instead of backing away from me, then nods. I don't mean to fall asleep myself when I hear him breathe easier, but I do. I've had a long day and I always sleep better when someone else is next to me.

 

 


	2. “Do I Need To Worry Over A Jealous Boyfriend?”

I wake up before my guest does. Aya – or whatever the fuck I'm supposed to be calling this guy – is sound asleep. There's no sign of him having cried earlier. He's still in the same position as when I fell asleep.

The sun is shining in through the window and the golden glow makes the red hair shine like a ruby. His skin is pale, I rest my hand to his cheek to compare and he's probably as white as the kitchen china. I'm not a freak about tanning, but I like the beach and I like the sun.

The hair is obviously dyed, but those eyes I saw last night were blue-ish. Yet, he looks a heck of a lot more Asian than I do.

Nothing about this guy makes sense to me. I stroke his bright red hair gently, brushing it away from his face. I hate the bruising on him. He's got a stitched cut in his forehead too, probably a couple of days old. For all that he looks skinny he's obviously been healthy up until now, there's no sign of starvation or malnutrition that I can see. All damage looks recent.

The fact that he doesn't wake up while I prod and poke is further proof that he hasn't been living a rough life. I wake up from the slightest sound or shift in the air, but Aya here is sleeping peacefully enough. Trust is something you lose quickly in this business. Along with body fat. It's all that work out we have to do to be able to survive missions, I might not be bulky but my arms are twice as thick as Aya's.

Despite my addiction to nicotine joining forces with caffeine withdrawal to scream bloody murder and threaten dire consequences if I don't get the fuck up, I'm too content to move. I doze while Aya sleeps and it's suddenly two hours later when the peace is broken. Aya stretches without moving from his new position on his belly, and yawns. I sneak my hand under his clothes to stroke his back when he seems reluctant to get up. He lets me touch his bare skin.

He rests his head on crossed arms and looks at me with a lazy look in his eyes. They're not blue, they're purple and that just has to top the weird scale. “Did I get in a fight at school again?” he asks in a carefree voice.

I smile at him, and I really don't want him to change. “Nope. Ken decked you.” Slowly his eyes lose their shine, some sort of spark dies and he grows silent. I want to kick myself, but I know that's not a reaction I'm to blame for. Someone hurt this kid bad, and Ken was just the icing on the cake. Just like all of us were hurt. We're all poster boy's for how fucked up life is.

I'm still stroking his back, but he's not telling me to fuck off, so I guess it's okay. I like his smooth, silky skin. He's warm under my hand.

“Wanna tell me your name yet?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head. He probably doesn't want to talk at all. I can relate, I nearly went mute after Asuka died, but eventually I bounced back enough to at least pretend to be care free.

“I'm going to call you Aya if you don't.”

He looks like he's about to cry again, but then he smiles. It's not a happy smile, but it's not creepy either. “Sure.”

“Well, I'm Youji, in case you forgot.” I smile at him, digging my fingers in a little to give him a pseudo-massage. “You're in my room.”

“Why am I dressed?” he mutters as he gets up. It's not something I'm supposed to reply to, the tone of voice suggests he's just talking to himself.

“I'll make sure to undress you next time,” I chuckle. Oh, and I would. I want to take him, I really do.

Finally I can get up, but I would have preferred to stay with him. I get the feeling we're not going to do this a lot, or ever, and that makes me annoyed. I grab my cigarettes and the old cup from last night.

Aya shrugs. “I'm not used to waking up dressed when there's company.”

“Do I need to worry over a jealous boyfriend?” I almost ask if he has a pimp, but remind myself that he's too... fresh... to have been involved with one.

“No, I don't have one. His parents found out and we broke it off months ago.”

“How old are you?” I ask warily. I have a strict 18+ rule. One, I have no intention of going to jail and Tokyo enforces that the age of consent is 18. Two, minors come with all sorts of problems. Like angry parents.

Aya sighs a defeated type of sigh. “Old enough.” He's digging in a pocket of his soft jeans and opens his wallet to show me an ID-card. Along with his real name I'm pleased to note he'll be nineteen soon.

“Ran,” I smile.

“Call me Aya, and don't tell anyone you know my name,” he corrects and puts the wallet away.

“I'll admit both are names for girls, Sugar,” I say with a wink. “Come on, we'll have something to eat and then I'll show you around.”

“Can I shower?” he asks. “I don't know what happened to my stuff though.”

I open my closet and hand him some of my more modest clothes. I'm taller, but I like them tight and Aya is just a little bit shorter. “They should fit.” I add a clean towel to the pile and tell him where the bathroom is.

We part ways in the corridor, and I happily continue to the kitchen. I'm excited and happy and I'm dying to spend more time with him. Not just because I would happily fuck him until he's incoherent and gasping, but because I'm curious about him. Yeah, okay, so the fuck-him-silly-part is a a major reason, I'm still _me_ , right? I light my cigarette as I go, enjoying the nicotine hit, and manage to not drop my mug when I see Manx.

“Hello, lovely,” I greet her. The flirting is automatic. I get in so much trouble with my girlfriends, you have no idea. It's just there, I can't turn it off for the life of me unless I'm in a pissy mood. Omi claims I would flirt with a chair, and he's not entirely wrong. Give me some hard liquor and I very well might.

Omi and Ken are by the table. I smile at them, grab a clean pink mug and fill it up from the coffeepot on the counter. Both addictions can now shut the fuck up, Youji has once again succumbed to temptation. All is right with the world.

“Manx was telling us about the new guy,” Omi says, looking towards the door as if Aya should be right on my heels.

“Oh, yeah, he's up in the shower. I gave him some of my clothes for now. Where is his stuff?”

“In his room,” Omi says as if I'm five and need this explained in simple terms.

“I hope you were careful with him, he just lost his family.” Manx looks sternly at me. She's one of our more sympathetic liaisons, but I don't want to test her temper. Redheads always have tempers. It's a fact of life. “It's bad enough that I had to hear from Birman that Ken knocked him out, I don't need you making things worse too.”

“Hey, I can be very considerate,” I say with a frown. “He wants us to call him Aya.”

Manx frowns at that, but then shrugs. “His codename will be Abyssinian. He has no relatives so we're taking him in. He knows he'll have to do two jobs, and he knows what they entail.”

I nearly choke on the coffee as my brain decides to mentally snort at Manx. Oh, yes, Kritiker is for sure doing this out the goodness of Persia's heart. Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely. And I'm a virgin with a trust fund.

“He's never killed,” Omi states, coming to the same conclusion I have already reached and shied away from, and sounding equally appalled. “And you're going to force him to kill.”

“He's accepted. The rest is Kritiker's business, but if it makes you feel better he has killed before.”

“Anything we should know?” I ask. “Do we hide the knives?”

“It's been two days since his life fell apart. Give him time to heal, he's a bit crazy right now but he's not overly dangerous.” Manx gets up from her chair. “I wish I could do more, but I'm stuck doing this job as much as you are doing yours. He needs to be ready in a month.”

I drink my increasingly more lukewarm coffee and finish my cigarette. I wave when Manx leaves. She's a good woman, deep down. Really deep down.

Omi wanders off to the computer. It's the weekend, but I don't doubt he'll do homework. He rarely has any free time, with two jobs and school, but he seems okay with it. So far. He is a teenager and they all blow up and rebel sooner or later. I have offered to take him out with me, but he's such a good boy that he couldn't possibly do that.

Ken mumbles something about me telling the new guy he's sorry, then leaves for the sunshine outdoors. It's probably for the best if I try to patch things up, Ken is a bit rash.

I hear quiet steps on the stairs just as I finish heating a pot of instant Miso with vegetables and tofu. I'm no master chef, but I can make a wide range of soups all by myself, and they taste good enough for my dates.

“There's enough for you too,” I say without looking. I see red hair and a thin body in my peripheral vision, then a scrape of a chair tells me he's sitting at the table. He's quiet on his feet, I note.

Aya is silent while I place two full bowls on the table. He looks like he feels awkward in the clothes I gave him, but he eats his soup.

“Your stuff is in your new room according to the others,” I say, because he must wonder. “I'll give you a tour and show you the neighborhood.”

“Is Ken here?”

“Ken is outside playing soccer. You'll see him soon enough. He's sorry, for what it's worth.”

Omi pokes his head in and smiles at Aya. “Hello! I'm Omi, in case you forgot.”

“I haven't,” Aya says casually.

“Manx said you had killed before?” Omi asks. “I plan missions so it would help if I knew your style.”

Ran twirls his chop sticks in the bowl and shakes his head. “I'm not telling you shit, kid.”

“At least tell me why? Were you attacked?” When Aya goes back to eating and all but ignores Omi the boy takes the hint and leaves. “Come find me if you change your mind.”

“We don't judge, you know,” I tell him.

“I don't need to give Kritiker more shit to hold over my head,” Aya says quietly.

I shrug. Both our bowls are empty so I put them in the sink with everything else. Aya follows me when I wave for him. I know there's only one more bedroom in the townhouse so I go there first and find that Omi really has placed his stuff there along with an envelope and a set of keys.

Aya opens the envelope to find an ID-card and a passport. He looks them over like he knows how to spot fakes and then tucks them into his back pocket.

“Do you have money?” I ask, thinking I can loan him some if he needs it.

“What did Manx tell you?”

“That you have no relatives and that's why they're taking you in.”

He snorts, clearly amused. “When my parents died I emptied their accounts and my own. I have money to last me for about four years. They don't know that, though.”

“What spooked you?”

“Lets just say I got a tip. Wanna show me the rest?”

My detective sense is tingling, but I will let it go for now.

 

 


	3. I Smell Like A Cheap Whore

I watch as Aya draws more and more into himself as days go by. Unless asked a direct question (that he wants to answer), or if he's pissed off and telling people to rot in Hell, he never talks. I guess it's sinking in that his parents are gone.

He has nightmares, but he's so quiet that Omi and Ken can't hear him, despite Ken's room being next to his. I hear him if I'm awake, but I need my sleep as well. There's still the flower shop we have to tend to and the missions we have to complete. Which the three of us still do alone, on Omi's insistence. He wants to give Aya as much time as possible to adapt.

I can still get Aya to occasionally talk to me civilly or to confide in me, or accept a quick hug, but most of the time he's in a downright volatile antisocial mood. I stay away from crazy, it's a survival instinct. I'm the only one he seems to like, so I still don't stay too far away. I'm nursing this vain hope that I'll get to snuggle him in a bed again.

Aya surprises us all one day by being gone all morning and then returning with blueprints neither Omi nor Kritiker managed to get their hands on. “The architect still had the originals,” is all he says. I never would have thought of that. More importantly, paper copies is something Omi would never consider. He's too stuck in his digital world.

Omi is too busy studying them and thanking Aya to ask exactly how he got them. Seeing as Aya is the new guy, that's important. As grateful as we should be for the initiative the last thing we need is the cops knocking on the door.

I wait until we're alone, because I know he's more likely to talk to me if nobody else is there, not that he's been overly friendly to me either lately. Momoe and Ken are the only ones working besides us, but she's wary about Aya and he's wary of her. We're leaning against the wall of the building, I'm taking a smoke break and Aya decided to tag along.

“How did you get them?” I ask, careful to sound more curious than condescending.

Aya steals a cigarette from me and lights it when I hold the lit lighter out. He smokes from time to time to silently keep me company, but I get the feeling he'd never buy cigarettes for himself. I don't mind. I can afford to lose a few cigarettes.

“I broke in. The cleaner had a master key. I just swiped it when he left.”

“Good job,” I say. I could lament over how the cleaner will be suspected of the crime, but I don't. I've done worse and I want Aya to not question the moral of what we do.

“Are you going out tonight?” he asks, a hard edge to his voice. For some reason he's bothered by my lifestyle. Enough that he started arguing one night when I was about to head out. I'm not sure why.

“Nah, not when we might be going on mission any moment.”

He sucks on the cigarette. “Can I stay with you then?”

I shrug, pretending like it's no big deal. “If you want.”

He leans a little on me. I assume this means he does want company. Maybe he dislikes my outings because I'm not there for him when I'm out.

“Why aren't you in school?” I ask, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Omi goes.”

“I got kicked out. I was friends with this foreigner and we got into all kinds of trouble. My grades were shit too. It was before this mess.”

“Have you talked to your friends at all?”

“No. I'm dead. Kritiker made sure everyone thinks I'm gone. Supposedly for my own safety.”

I nod. What little I know about him has huge gaps, but whatever bullshit Kritiker wants us to believe isn't even close to being true. I can just about feel it in my bones. A detective can become an assassin, but I'll never lose the instincts that made me so good at what I did.

“I miss him more than I miss my parents. It's weird, but it's because he's alive. They're gone, no helping that. He and Aya, they're still there. Sort of. And I can't have them, and that hurts more than anything.”

“Who's this mysterious Aya?” I ask, not really expecting a reply. He's talkative right now, so maybe I'll finally know.

“She's my twin sister,” He says so quietly I can barely hear him. “We're not identical and our personalities are pretty different. She's in a coma, the doctors aren't sure she'll breathe on her own again.”

I toss my cigarette and then grab his and toss that too, then I hug him close. He hugs me back, and I desperately hope we don't need four people on a mission tonight. He's too raw, and I can't leave him like this. I feel responsible for him.

“You'll be okay,” I whisper into his hair. I can't make promises on the sister or his friend, but I can look after my teammates. I realize I should give him more leeway on his pissy moods.

When we pull apart he's pulled himself together, still a little emotional, but looking okay enough. I use the pads of my thumbs to wipe his tears away and he lets me hold his face in my hands after.

Ken disturbs the peace by yelling for me from inside the store and I sigh. “Guess the break is over.”

We go back to the shop where he goes back to making bouquets. He's still pretty shit, but he's good at copying. Omi got him a book with different arrangements and Aya copies them as if he's done nothing else in his life, minus the part where he handles the flowers awkwardly.

I make sure I'm busy so I don't hover over him. He doesn't like that. I can relate to it, it's annoying.

When we close up I'm ready to limit my activities to eat and then hit the sack. “Aya, wanna eat?” I ask before he sneaks off.

“Shower, then food, I smell more like a cheap whore,” he mutters.

I let him go. I'm used to smelling of flowers myself. Instead I check my wallet to make sure I have enough money. I'm going to bribe the absolute fuck out of Aya to keep him close, because I somehow want him. Even with the pissy personality. Aya has this habit of paying back too. He'll leave little gifts on my bed sometimes. Cigarettes mostly. Sometimes he cooks for me.

Aya meets me in the kitchen half an hour later. He's showered and dressed in fresh clothes, his hair dry and perfect.

“Come on, I'll drive,” I smile.

Aya follows me to the garage. I like my car, a lot, and it's all shiny and clean since I washed it two days ago. Aya was impressed the first time he saw it, but he gets over things like that quickly.

We get in and I take us to a quiet restaurant. Aya seems stressed out among crowds, so I figured it's best to keep him somewhat sheltered. They serve European food. Italian, maybe French, I'm not good at telling the difference. I just know it's a quiet place where you can eat in peace.

I can tell he's tired when we're waiting on the food, he has that vacant look on his face that suggests he's not all there.

“You awake?” I ask him.

Aya rubs his face. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

The waiter arrives with the food and we both start eating. Aya has a very healthy appetite once he gets food in front of him, but he will also forget to eat a lot of the time. It's like his mind doesn't compute that he has to eat. It certainly explains why he's so thin.

“They have good desserts here. I've been here enough on dates that I've almost tried all of them.”

“How do you stand going on dates so often?” he asks me. Not amused, at all.

“It's mostly just dates,” I confess. “Company. It's nice to just talk about normal things and... get away. Pretend my life isn't quite so dark.”

“Mostly.”

“Hey, I'm a guy,” I grin. I don't ask him if he's jealous, he'll say he's not, if anything he'll say he's annoyed that I don't spend more time with him. “So, dessert. You like sweets, and don't try to deny it.”

“Fine, I like sweets,” he admits.

We finish the food and have dessert, and I'm a guy so I won't be telling you how an everyday meal was fifteen different superlatives.

The drive back is silent, but it's a cozy kind of silent. Aya fiddles with the car stereo a lot, not content with the pop stations I usually listen to as I drive.

Back home we brush our teeth, I shower, and then go to bed. Aya doesn't wait for me, so I walk into my room after the shower and see him already asleep in my bed.

When I climb in I notice he's naked, so I remove my boxers and cuddle up to him just to feel all that silky-soft skin against my own. It's not really sexual, I just like the feel. I stay awake for a while just so I can stroke him and touch him.

 

 


	4. We haven't even kissed

I'm sitting on the floor with my back resting against the bed when Aya comes to my room with a bag of pastries and a pack of dark beer. It's some small brand, hipster craft beer of some sort. I've noticed that he likes quality. He buys expensive clothes, but he seems to have very little sense of the cost of things. I grew up poor, I've only recently had enough money to not look at price tags.

It was my idea to have a movie night, just the two of us, to give him an excuse to be in my room. He seems to need it, he's still not acting like he feels secure with coming in. Plus I have a lot of movies, since I hate being bored and it's been something to do when I'm hung over. I picked Thursdays since Omi and Ken are both out unless there's a mission.

The movie I've picked is one we both have missed when it was showing in theaters. I load the disc in my laptop. It's connected to a bigger screen. Kritiker gives us the latest computer goodies without questioning, so I got this instead of a TV. Being poor makes you creative.

I turn the subtitles off, Aya is fluent in English. I never expected it, since he said he had bad grades, but he has a knack for languages. I'm fluent because my father never learned much Japanese and while I never saw him too often I made an effort to learn his language. He's an American, but since he quit the army I've not seen hide nor hair of him. I think he moved back. That or he got himself a new family, which wouldn't surprise me.

“Is that beer any good?” I ask curiously.

“Yes,” Aya says with a passion he normally lacks. “Alex taught me about beer.”

“Alex? That your friend?”

Aya nods. “He's from Europe, but he's living with an American. Older guy, I had a crush on him for about a year.”

I smile at Aya forgetting to be Aya, and instead being Ran. “Are you gay?”

“Duh.”

I laugh. “What was that?”

He laughs too, even though it's not really funny. I start the movie to distract him so he won't remember how miserable he is. There are moments when I only see Ran, and that's why I can easily stand his depressed and prickly Aya-personality. Ran is fun and mischievous.

I feel a beer pushed into my hand and open the can. While I'm drinking he sits between my spread legs and slouches against me. I stop drinking and wrap my free arm around his waist. It's cozy. He's not at all bothered by body contact.

We watch the movie and finish off the beer and pastries. I really like the beer. I'm starting to like this wild child friend of Ran's. When the movie ends he stays where he is. The laptop is close enough that it doesn't matter, I can load another disc if I want to.

“Want to see another?” I ask.

We both stiffen when the door opens downstairs. I can hear Omi chattering so I know he's home already.

The dark room we're in seems almost like an alternate reality. Omi is out there, but we're in here and I doubt he'll ever be this cozy with Aya. Suddenly I want to stake a claim, leave a mark, but I know we're not lovers so I don't act on it.

It's just that his neck is right there and it would be so easy to -

“Youji,” I hear a knock on my door.

“Yeah?” I answer Omi.

Aya soundlessly slinks under my bed. I don't know what's up with that. Omi opens the door, by some miracle just as Aya is out of sight, and comes in. I take the disc from the computer.

“Watching movies?” Omi asks. “Can I talk to you?”

I ponder Aya being under my bed, but then decide he probably wants to eavesdrop anyway. He's good at it and I've caught him more than once lurking around. “Sure!”

“It's Aya. I'm scared of him. It's like he'd just as soon kill us as the targets.”

I shake my head. “No, he wouldn't.”

Omi is scared, I realize. He nods a little. “He's just so angry all the time.”

“Not all the time,” I wheedle.

“It's why I came. He seems to like you. Maybe you could talk to him. He just stares at me until I lose my courage.”

I've seen that once. Aya doesn't back down once he's decided something, and Omi is starting to realize he's not the pushover Ken is. I chit chat with Omi about his schoolwork and classmates to take his mind off it, but I do promise to talk to Aya.

When Omi leaves Aya comes out and snuggles up on my bed.

“You could be nicer, he's just a kid,” I tell Aya.

“Maybe,” Aya gives as a half-promise. He sounds playful, and the grin on his face tells me it's safe to talk.

“I mean it, they're good people. Without Kritiker they'd probable be better people.”

Aya nods. “Omi is Kritiker's snitch though.”

“Yeah, we all know that. They raised him, it's probably just about old loyalties.” I shrug.

Aya squirms on the bed, suddenly restless. I rise up and slap his ass once, giving him a grin. I find another movie and pop it in, turning the volume so low it's almost off. I move to sit on the bed, but soon end up spooning Aya.

Watching porn is usually something I only do alone. Other guys get weirded out too often and girls just find it degrading. Somehow I get the feeling Aya's different.

Aya starts rooting in my nightstand drawer. I let him do as he pleases. I have nothing to hide and if I did he'd find it anyway. His idea of _yours_ and _mine_ is pretty loose.

I suddenly have a tube of lube right in my face.

“Use you fingers,” Aya tells me while he shimmies out of his pants.

I'm prepared for a lot, but this? “You sure?”

“I'm clean,” he says, and I'm not sure how he means it, but I suddenly don't care.

Aya moves to lay on his belly and watches the screen while I open the tube and coat my fingers. He just gives a soft grunt when my pointer finger enters him.

It's hot having a hole to play with while we watch the porno, and Aya clearly likes assplay. I progress to two fingers, but it doesn't bother him. On the contrary, he's squirming a little and moaning now.

He's tight around my fingers, hot, slippery and silky. Normally to get a girl to do anal I have to do all kinds of things to convince them, but Aya is a guy.

We haven't even kissed.

I decide to remedy that a little and kiss his shoulder.

“You're such a softie,” he says, all amusement.

“Yeah,” I admit. He doesn't stop me from kissing him on the lips. He bites my lower lip. It's just hard enough that I pull back, but not hard enough to make me second guess what we're doing.

“I don't need foreplay to last half an hour.”

“Bossy,” I half-complain. “I don't normally do it with guys.”

Aya sighs. “Just fuck me until you can't get it up.”

“Bossy.”

I decide to leave him where he is. It's not a bad position for anal, but not ideal either. I straddle his hips and lube my cock up. There's resistance at first when I try to enter him, but his body relents after a while and my cock slips in a little.

“Fuck, you're _thick_ ,” he groans into the bed.

“I know baby,” I soothe while stroking his back. “I know, but you can take it.”

He's grunting and panting under me while I keep pushing deeper into his tight hole without giving him any respite. He's not making any pained noises, just reacting to the girth, and he did ask me to take him.

It's not that I can't be rough, it's that I usually have to be so tender because women are... well, women. Aya's not pleading with me when I hold still, as deep as I can go, but he's trying to entice me into moving by making little noises and squeezing me. As much as I enjoy that, I can take a hint.

He comes nearly as soon as I start thrusting. I don't stop or even slow, I want to come in his tight ass. When I feel him getting close a second time I start to wonder if this guy is for real. He feels really good spasming around my cock when he comes. I pull out and nudge him until he flips to his back.

“How many times do you usually come?”

Aya whines and takes a while to answer. I barely resist when he wraps his legs around me. “Don't focus on me, fuck me like a toy.”

“Because you like it or because someone told you that's all you're good for?” I ask. I can't help it.

The slap I get to my face is hard, but not enough to cause an injury. “Sex,” Aya growls. I enter him again and set a slow pace. He's wary of me, but when he starts getting into it again soon enough I assume I'm forgiven. “I like it rough,” Aya finally gives me what I wanted to know. “I'm not brainwashed, asshole, I just like being forced to submit. And fuck it, you were rubbing me just right before. Please fuck me like that again.”

I kiss him when he quiets. “Just making sure,” I soothe. I can tell he enjoys being fucked slow too.

His hands stroke my knees and thighs. I have his impaled ass in my lap and they're the parts easiest for him to reach. Aya pouts prettily when I keep the slow pace. When I give him a hard thrust his face melts into a pleased expression. I nearly fold him in half to be able to kiss him while I take him.

“Fuck you like a toy, huh?” I growl softly. “Does that mean I can bend you over during the day and take you as I please?”

Aya starts writhing and making small noises under me. I really enjoy fucking him bareback. I want to fill him and stake a claim, I want to make him sore so he'll remember who caused it, I want him to come back for more.

“Are you going to come a third time on my cock?”

Aya whines, a drawn out sound that makes my cock swell. Oh, he's so going to come again. I haven't touched his cock once. He licks his lips without really closing them before or after, gasping for breath as if he can't remember how to breathe.

I'm close too. I pound into him harder, taking his advice and just using him. I can tell, even through the haze of my own impending orgasm, that he's holding back for me. He wants to come with me, but in the end he comes just before I do. I give him two harsh thrusts before I shove my cock so deep he yelps and let my seed spill inside his twitching and spasming hole.

He's blissed out, but I don't pull out until I have to move or my muscles will give me Hell. I'm watching my half-hard cock slide out of him because I like seeing his hole twitch when it's empty as if it wants more.

I spoon Aya and stroke his sweaty skin until we're both calm. “Seriously, you come more often than a nympho.”

Aya pushes back against my groin, so I push him face-down into the bed to his obvious delight and shove my cock back into his slick hole.

He makes the best noises while he's being fucked. After you've come once it's easier to last, so I set a pace that wont tire me out. I'm going to savor this, because after three orgasms I doubt Aya can come again.

Unless he has a dry orgasm.

I've never tried to wring a guy out until there's nothing left, certainly not by fucking them. It sounds like a fun game.

 

 


	5. Happy Birthday

My memory isn't perfect, but I easily remember the birth date stamped on Aya's ID-card because it's the fourth of July. I have a harder time remembering National Foundation Day on the 11th of February, but hey, bonus points for the American propaganda machine I suppose.

There's no time to celebrate, we have an intense mission and first we're scrambling to make it work, then to make it out alive.

Ken and I are held up by Schwarz, a team made up of people that give me nightmares individually and could kill us all if they really gave it a go. For some reason they never do. I'm not sure if we're not important enough or if suit-guy has decided we're good target practice.

Suit-guy seems to be in charge. Eye-patch and Bandanna – no, I don't know their names – follow his orders without even blinking. At least there's just three of them, they're enough trouble as is.

We've run into them before Aya joined, but our paths haven't crossed recently. I was hoping they'd have gone back to where ever they came from. They speak a language I don't know, and I'm not sure I can pinpoint where in the world it originates either. I want to say Europe, but I just don't know.

Omi and Aya are getting data we need. Meaning Ken and I have to entertain Schwarz.

Or, well, Suit-guy and Bandanna stand off to the side smirking while Eye-patch tries to slice Ken and I up.

I spot Aya's red head and assume he'll join the fight. Omi starts trying to dart the annoying bleach blond. I break off then and catch up to Aya as he, bold as fucking day, starts talking to Suit-guy and Bandanna. If I hadn't already started suspecting the guy had a few screws lose up there, I'd have all the evidence necessary now.

“What are you doing here?” Aya asks. Calmly, I might add.

“Making sure none of our interests are at jepoardy,” Suit-guy replies, smug grin still in place from watching his buddy outwit three members of Weiss.

Bandanna is looking at Aya funny.

“We're not after Takatori. Yet,” Aya argues. “So back off.”

Suit-guy is closer to Aya than I am. I need space for the wire. So when he reaches out and strokes Aya's cheek I don't have enough time to get between them. Nothing else happens, just that one caress, and then they start walking away. “Farfarello,” Bandanna calls.

Eye-patch breaks away from his fight and strolls after his buddies. He passes by Aya pretty closely, but nothing happens.

“Takatori?” I ask.

“They're his bodyguards,” Aya answers. “Crawford is usually with him when he's on the news.”

“Crawford is the suit guy?”

Aya nods.

It's an American name. Or British, perhaps. I'm not sure. “Now we're just missing the name for Bandanna Boy.”

“Let's go back,” Aya decides, the command sharp like a whip. He turns and leaves, and we all follow.

It's already the fifth of July when we're back home, around four in the morning. We all shower and then head for bed. None of us have slept in forever and I saw Omi almost fall asleep standing up while brushing his teeth.

I go to find Aya, but he's nowhere to be found. I convince myself it doesn't matter, but I really want to ask him about Schwarz. And maybe wish him a happy birthday.  

 


	6. Cake

None of us see Aya for days. Omi tells Manx, and she keeps asking what happened during the mission. For some reason Ken and Omi missed it when the saner two in Schwarz interacted with Aya. I don't tell. I don't know why. I probably should.

It's the tenth of July when I next see Aya. I was out when he came back, so I thankfully miss the welcome home party Manx threw.

Omi fills me in when I get back, saying he called her when Aya came home and that she threw a bitch fit. My words, not his. Apparently it's not a big deal to Kritiker, Manx just wants to give him a shake so that he doesn't run for real.

I find him in my room after looking everywhere else, curled up on my bed, hugging one of my pillows. He looks like an emotional wreck, but he's clearly been eating and sleeping enough. “So who's been feeding you?” I ask.

“Alex,” he says.

“Your friend?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I thought you couldn't see him.”

Aya shrugs and doesn't talk, so I decide to drop it because I've missed him and I don't want him to leave my room yet.

“I never got to wish you a Happy Birthday,” I tell him.

“Right. Yay me,” he says in a dead-eyed monotone.

I put a small, bright blue box right by his nose. It has a bow on it that the store clerk expertly made while I was blinking.

Aya pokes it, curious and wary at the same time. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

He takes the box and rolls to lie on his back. He turns the box this way and that in his hands. I don't know where the knife comes from, but suddenly he has one and is cutting the string. The knife disappears as soon as it appeared.

The box contains a collar with a pendant that's flat, but shaped like a bell. The type you see on cat collars. He reads the number on the back of it, the number to the flower shop, and snorts. I'm expecting an argument, but he just puts it on.

“You're not a stray, don't run away like that.”

He huffs, but it's a neutral sound.

“Come on. Get up! We'll go out and buy some cake for you,” I tell him.

“Don't wanna.”

“What do you want?”

Aya strokes my crotch through my jeans, touch firm. “You put a collar on me,” he whispers.

I nod, somewhat dumbly because I have no idea where he wants this to go. He could just want to tease me.

“Do you think I belong to you?” The correct answer is clearly no, his voice is a little too harsh. Eyes a little too cold. “Do you think I'm yours?”

“I want you to be,” I tell him. It would be so easy to hurt me, he would just have to squeeze my junk a little too tight.

“Alex fucked me today. In the car, just before he dropped me off here,” he says quietly. I don't want to react to it, but I can feel my cock strain against the fabric confining it. “I told him I'd been letting you take me. Do you want to fuck me too? I'm still wet.”

He pulls his pants down and kneels on my bed, and he wasn't telling a lie. My brain short-circuits. Well, my big brain does. The other brain wants to stake a claim and make sure Aya doesn't ever go anywhere else for his kicks. “Slut.”

I slap his ass hard. I'm not sure when I pull my own pants down, the next thing I know I'm pushing into him. He grunts at being filled so fast, but he really is soaking wet with sticky lube and – God I hope I don't get an STD from this. My arms are around his waist and my hands are working on his clothes. I've never fucked anyone right after they've taken another man, it's never appealed to me. It doesn't really now either, but I want the little slut to know who owns him.

I strip Aya while I fuck him, and he has all kinds of marks that suggest some seriously kinky activities. “Slut,” I say again. “You God damned slut, you love this, don't you?”

He's still on his knees, me pressed against his back. His legs are trembling a bit and whatever bravado he had before has left him because he's sobbing now.

I can't be mad, I can't, so I nudge him to lay down instead. I don't pull out, I follow him down and start thrusting gentler.

 

 


	7. I didn't make it to a P.I. by being a clueless bimbo

I'm having a shit week where nothing goes as planned. I get into fights with Ken for bullshit reasons, I oversleep and miss work which makes Omi upset, I get stuck in traffic, my credit card is worn out and won't work nine times out of ten, and to top it all off I wake up on Friday morning with Bandanna in my bedroom.

How the fucking Hell he knows where we live I don't know, but it's the perfect next step for a week that has been nothing but shit.

“Yo,” I say, guessing he's American.

He rolls his eyes at me. If he's here for a fight I might even be up for it.

“You're not worth the time,” he states.

I didn't say that out loud.

“No,” he agrees.

I know I'm awake, so that leaves him knowing what I think. “Could shit stop getting weird on me for once?” I complain.

“Where's Ran?” Bandanna asks, tone of voice suggesting I can get over this sometime later, on my own, thank you very much. It's a tone Manx sometimes adopts with me, so it has to be something about redheads.

“If you hurt him -”

He scoffs, looking like I just suggested that grass is blue and the sky is green.

“I figure he's with Aya,” I say softly. I find it odd that Schwarz seem... friendly. Didn't Aya say he had a friend he couldn't visit? I look closer at Bandanna.

“I can't stay,” Bandanna says with a frown. He leaves a cloth bundle on my nightstand. “Make sure Ran gets it.”

And just like that, he's gone. I don't touch the bundle; it could be anything, but I doubt it's a bomb. I even doubt it's harmful. I haven't been a detective for a while, but my skills aren't all about killing bad guys. I just leave it there.

Threat gone, I go back to sleep. Hey, they haven't killed us yet so I figure the place is safe even with them knowing where we live.

Aya wakes me up, gently, a few hours later. I smile up at him. He's smiling back.

“Bandanna left you that,” I point to the bundle.

Aya picks it up and unwraps it. It's a t-shirt with long sleeves and some type of print, and hidden in the center is a gun. There's no hesitation from Aya as he picks the gun up and checks it over. I get the feeling he knows how to handle it. It looks like a smaller caliber gun, but I'm not an expert. Much.

“That's Alex, isn't it?” I ask.

Aya nods. See? I didn't make it to a P.I. by being a clueless bimbo. Not that being a clueless bimbo doesn't have perks.

He stashes the gun and t-shirt in my nightstand drawer and then undresses before going to bed. His skin is colder than mine, but silky soft and smooth.

As much as I want to grill him, I'm too comfy to make a fuss.  

I probably don't deserve to be so comfortable with him there to cuddle with. I stroke his hair away from his face and kiss him.

Some morbid part of me almost expects him to leave just because nothing had gone my way this week, but Aya stays put and kisses me back.

 

 


	8. I'm pretty sure this is a bad idea

I'm competing with Alex over Aya's attention. It's a battle I'm sure I'll lose in the end. The Orange Menace has started coming over when Omi and Ken are out.

Today Aya dragged me across town and we're in Schwarz's apartment. Suit-guy-Crawford is there too, but he's busy with his computer. He doesn't even flinch when I come in, just looks up and then ignores us all. I feel dismissed. I'm sure it's a good thing, but I sort of want to go over and poke him just to make sure he's noticed me.

I don't really want to be in Alex's room, but Aya is holding my hand and nothing short of a gun to my temple would make me shake his hand off.

To give the guy some credit, Alex is casually polite towards me. I'm sure it's only because of Aya.

That wild mane of orange hair Alex has is not contained by a headband like usual, it's in a neat ponytail with stray locks framing his face. He's not ugly, not by a long shot, his foreign looks remind me of the models I've seen in magazines and on billboards.

“I'm torn,” Aya says. He's Ran around Alex. Always, and that makes me incredibly jealous. “I want you both around, but you don't like each other.”

Alex nods, like he knows, and I suppose he probably does. Being able to read thoughts must make dealing with Aya much easier. “We like you,” Alex grins.

Aya pouts. He takes Alex's hand and pull us both closer to each other, then he steps back to sit on Alex's desk. It's an unspoken command, but we both understand it. I'm pretty sure this is a bad idea. I'm pretty sure I'll regret the Hell out of this, but Aya wants it.

Alex seems to not have any second thoughts, he promptly closes the gap and kisses me. I grab the elastic band holding his hair in place so I can undo the ponytail and bury my fingers in his soft hair. We keep kissing, and I forget why we're doing this. I live for the moment, and at this moment I'm making out with a hot guy.

He surprises me when we a little later start shedding out clothes. He yields. I'd almost expected to fight him for it, but he lets me take the lead. I'm soon buried in his ass while he bites his lips. He's clearly enjoying it from how his cock is swollen and twitching, but I can tell it's hurting him a bit.

I might not like the guy overly much, but I'm not okay with my bed partners hurting so I take it slow from there. I kiss him and change our position slightly until he stops trying to bite his lips. He's moaning foreign things I don't understand when I start sliding inside him.

I give up on trying to translate whatever language he's reverted to and listen to his body. I watch his movements, his pupils and how his breath hitches. He's different from Aya in that he refuses to fully give me control over the proceedings. Sure, he's yielded to me and allowed me to top, but he's subtly fighting and forcing me to occasionally change my pace to do what he wants me to.

Aya's not a complete push-over, he knows what he wants, but he's also very very submissive when we have sex.

When Alex comes untouched I'm not sure if he's more surprised than I am, but Aya laughs at what he says so I'm guessing he is. I hold still to give him a little time to enjoy the rush, but I grow impatient and start thrusting again pretty soon.

He growls something at me and then find enough words in Japanese to tell me what he wants. Which I have no problem with, because I'm all in favor of having him ride my cock.

 

 


	9. Off Duty, I Like Him

Movie night in my room with Aya and Alex is less awkward than it should be. Alex brings me new DVDs almost every time he comes by.

Off duty, I like him. I like the guy he is around Aya, at least.

On the job, he's still a cocky bastard I want to strangle.

Tonight he comes by long before Aya's back from a surveillance job. I can tell he's tired so I don't object when he curls up on my bed, sort of like Aya does. I start taking his shoes and jacket off, then continue stripping him a little quicker when I spot vivid bruises.

He has some smeared blood on him, but nothing serious seems to bleed. He's just badly roughed up and has been patched up too quickly. I suspect Crawford because he seems to have a short fuse, but Alex shakes his head vehemently when I think it. I stroke his messy hair. There's some type of smell to him, like a salve.

“Crawford never hurts us,” he says. “Not like this, and not at all if he can avoid it.”

“Did he patch you up then?”

Alex shrugs. “No. He's out fixing a mistake I made. The kid helped me.”

I look him over myself. Schwarz's brand new fourth member looks twelve, and he's a telekinetic. Scary shit. Alex lets me check him over, but other than a rib I'm sure is fractured he's somewhat okay. Not that I'm a doctor, but I have learned a lot about wounds and caring for them lately.

He grabs my comforter and makes himself comfortable. I leave him to doze on my bed and go down to the kitchen to get us some snacks and drinks. Ken is watching television. Omi is out, so it has to be Ken, especially when you take into account the sounds of the sports channel. I like sports as much as the next guy, but I'm not a fanatic the way Ken is.

Alex is sobbing quietly when I return. I've never seen him cry. I've seen him in the throes of passion, but I've never seen him be truly vulnerable. I'm not sure he appreciates it when I cuddle him, but he's not fighting me. I hug him as tight as I dare considering he's hurt and hum a song I like.

We both doze off for an hour before Aya, fresh from the shower, joins us. He drops his towel and walks naked to the bed. Alex has calmed down, but after some quiet communication between them Aya becomes so angry he goes still and pale.

“Relax, I'll get back at him,” Alex says confidently.

Aya nods slowly.

“Come,” I say to try to coax Aya to come to bed.

We snuggle Alex between us for a good long while before we start a movie. The sodas are warm, but nobody cares. I've started buying things Aya's said that Alex likes.

The foreigner is subdued and a little mopey all evening, but he's hurt so that's fine.

“I should go,” he says around two in the morning.

“Sleep here,” I offer. “The other two know Aya and I fuck sometimes, they don't come in at all any more.”

Alex considers it and then nods.

“Youji fucked me in the store room during a shift,” Aya says almost proudly. “They walked in on us.”

Alex snickers.

“You were the one dropping all these filthy innuendos as soon as no one heard -”

“I was horny!” Aya pouts. Sometimes I forget he's just a young brat. I can see him arguing with his parents like this, just about different things. He sure has that pout perfected.

Alex's eyes are sparkling with mischief.

I'm not sure I'll survive these two.

 

 


	10. You be in the middle

We're in a hotel to avoid our teammates. As in, Ken and Omi, because I'm pretty sure Schwarz doesn't care. It's not overly posh, but it's not seedy either. I barely get inside the room and close the door before Alex is on me.

Aya snickers and goes over to the bed.

Alex goes down on his knees and starts giving me a blow job. My back against the door, nearly completely dressed. Honestly I never thought he could be so good at that. He's not much for showing weakness or letting other people take the reigns. It makes it more of a treat when he does let go, though...

 

* * *

 

I'm warm and happy and completely relaxed on the big bed while Aya fucks Alex next to me.

He can give as good as he gets, but he claims to like being a bottom best. Still, variation is great.

Alex doesn't like being a bottom, but he's outright asked to be fucked this time. He relaxes for Aya in ways he never does for me, and I can feel my cock swelling at the sight of him.

“Can I fuck you again?” I ask and caress Alex's smooth jaw.

Aya stops with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You be in the middle.”

No need to ask twice. I lube up my cock and spear Alex. He stays relaxed and pliant even though it's me, and I reward him by telling him what a good boy he's being.

Aya puts a hand on my hip to make me hold still. I honestly haven't had two guys in bed with me before. It's a lot of sensation being in the middle like this. I suddenly want to watch Alex be in the middle and decide that even if my balls fall off after this, we're going to do a couple of different variations on this thing.

 

* * *

 

I see Aya hold a gun to my head, sitting on my hips dressed in black. There's no words between us. He squeezes the trigger before I think of anything to say.

Maybe I should have taken a hint from the fact that he was friends with Schwarz.

“Boom,” Alex yells just as the gun clicks. Aya merely grins while Alex howls with laughter.

“I think my heart stopped,” I say honestly.

“You should have seen you face,” Alex hiccups between giggles.

 

 


End file.
